


Until the End of Time

by JulyStorms



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyStorms/pseuds/JulyStorms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In their last moments, they both regret a lot of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until the End of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Because I’m a monster. This goes along with [this](http://julystorms.tumblr.com/post/97786998707/darling-you-know-ill-love-you-til-the-end-of) 10-second AMV.
> 
> For (or blame this on) [Hairjel](http://hairjel.tumblr.com). :3c

In their last moments, they both regret a lot of things.

Petra regrets following rules and regulations. She also regrets some of her harsh words. But in the seconds that remain of her existence, she regrets not telling Auruo what she should have told him years ago—that she really does love him, despite everything—maybe _in spite of_ everything.

The best she can do is think it: so she thinks it at him, and he doesn’t hear her, not over the rushing of the wind through his hair, not over the sound of his own panicked screams.

And she’s really sorry for that. Sorry that he’ll never know. Sorry that she listened to rules and regulations as if laws exist that can stamp out love.

* * *

 

Auruo’s loved her all along—maybe not from the very beginning, but eventually, over the course of years, he’s come to feel more for Petra than he’s ever felt for anyone else.

He knows the feeling’s not exactly returned. Maybe bits of it, pieces here and there, scattered like his sanity sometimes, like when she nags him about this-and-that. But her nagging means she cares, and that’s all he’s ever really needed, right?

During times like these, he usually thinks about his family, about his brothers, about what they’ll do without his sloppy letters and his bragging. So much for the bragging, eh? Talent doesn’t mean jack shit out here, not against this titan, not against a great many titans. He’s seen better soldiers than himself fall to lesser things.

But this time it’s all Petra, and as he’s watching her follow behind him, he’s trying to forget the terror in her eyes, so far beyond the terror they’d felt as new recruits pissing their pants that he doesn’t know what to make of it. Her death is instantaneous and he feels his heart close up even as his face opens. He doesn’t even care what the newbie brat thinks, now. It’s his turn, now. He’s the last one. He’s the only one standing between Eren and this stupid fucking titan and if he doesn’t take it down, if he doesn’t win, then everyone died in vain. And the thought—he can’t even think it all the way through.

He doesn’t last more than a few moments. The second his blades break he’s aware that he’s going to die.

Then he’s falling or flying and Eren’s screaming. Auruo feels something _crack_ , but it doesn’t really hurt. Nothing hurts. He realizes, vaguely, that he’s stopped moving, that he’s in shock, and he tries to close his eyes, tries not to look, because right there in front of him is the broken form of the woman he’s spent so much time loving. And she never knew it. He wishes he could say it now, but nothing’s working.

He’s trapped in his own body.

The wind rushes in his ears even though he’s not moving.

He wants to close his eyes.

He wants to tell himself that he doesn’t regret a damn thing in his life: not meeting Petra, not joining the military with her, not shaking her hand and swearing to join the Survey Corps—not a damn thing. But he feels it anyway, regret on his face and in his limbs, surrounding him like cold river-water.

He didn’t want to push it on her, he remembers; he didn’t want to give her another weight to carry along with the rest. So he’d kept it to himself—the only secret he’d ever managed to keep from her.

And now it burns in his blood, something he can’t say now even though he wants to, something she’ll never know because even if he could say it now, she won’t be able to hear it.

And for some reason, this is worse than being forced to look at her body—broken skin and blood half fused to a tree; all that remains of Petra is a smear with her pretty hair in clumps on her scalp.

Because death is expected eventually. He’d never doubted that they’d die, together or yards, miles, _years_ apart. But this—this lack of foresight on his part that she might die before he could tell her… Well.

He should have said it.

He should have told her that he loved her, should have said he didn’t care if she loved him back or not, should have said that he’d have her back until the end of time because that’s the shit love’s made up of. If she didn’t feel that way for him, it would never have mattered a lick. He’d always known he’d stick with her until the very end.

But he had not expected the end would come so soon.


End file.
